This post, now slightly edited, appeared on a previous blog in a previous spring.
|A Rose Bloom **|
It was not my last name in the beginning; I married it. But it has been my last name longer than the last name my parents gave me. So, Bloom it is. Not Bloem, not Bloome, not Blume. For sure, not Bloomsma (a nod to my years in Western Michigan, which is populated by more than a few Dutch folks). It is Bloom, like a flower. And I am oh so glad my first name is not botanical in nature.
Rose Bloom? Violet Bloom? Daisy Bloom? Orchid Bloom? I don't think so.
I also suspect my husband would have avoided a relationship with anyone named Dandelion, unless she was so Bloom-worthy that a name like Dandelion Bloom would have been acceptable. (I just quickly Googled Dandelion Bloom to see if I am offending anyone here. I seem to be safe, but you never know.)
I have tried to do my part to keep the name Bloom in good standing. I have tried to Bloom Where I Am Planted and avoid, with at least minimal success, a Bloom Where I Have Ranted reputation. But keeping the name in a good place is not just the responsibility of the Bloom families around the world. Advertisers and accessory producers also bear responsibility.
The word Bloom is everywhere in spring and summer! Lipstick ads, furniture ads, clothing ads. Insurance ads, auto ads, food ads. Bloom into Spring! they say. Really, this occurs every spring and summer. You would think they could at least alternate years with some other family name. Maybe there are some Grasses out there. Grass into Spring!
Then there are those who make plaques, flower pots, jewelry, and general spring decor objects with the word Bloom on them. I am less inclined to hold them as accountable because I actually own a few of these products. I feel almost obligated to do so, because if your name is Jones you are not so much given this opportunity. But please, don't make ugly with Bloom. Do you hear me, Cracker Barrel?
But you know, maybe, just maybe, Dandelion Bloom would have been a fun name to have.